Come Out And Play
by Snodin
Summary: My father doesn't let me out as much as he used to. I'm beginning to wonder if anyone out there would even remember me. But then, one morning, I hear their voices calling my name. "Come out and play," they tell me...


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"**Come Out And Play"**

**A Mega Man / Smash Brothers Story**

**By Snodin**

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"Dad? …Daaad? …..DAD?"

"Ugh, what?" he moaned while rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He had been lazing the day away on the couch like a lump while I, his once beloved son, loomed over him eagerly. His eyes gazed up at mine in a daze. "What do you want?"

"It's the middle of the day. Can we go outside?"

"No," he said flatly.

The smile I had on my face dropped to a frown; I really should have seen this coming. Ever since the divorce, he had become like a different person: distant, even cold. I had asked him to spend time with me, over and over again, but he always said the same thing. And each time he did, that one small word sounded more and more somber.

"Oh," I muttered, unable to hide the disappointment in my voice. "Okay then." I sighed softly and retreated to my room upstairs, where I would spend the remainder of the warm, sunny day.

I was beginning to wonder if I should just give up and except the fact that he just wasn't the same man anymore, that he was purposely shutting me out. I couldn't understand why though, we used to have such fun times together. Sure, it was basically the same game we played every day, but it never got tiresome- at least, not to me. Things were much different now; I could see in his eyes that he no longer cared for our playtime. Perhaps this was his way of telling me to grow up? But how could I, when I'm still so young? These questions began to haunt me while I lay back on my bed and staring up at the blank ceiling. There were days when I would stare up at that blank space for hours, just as he was sleeping off whatever it was that was eating away at him. I was beginning to fear that I was becoming as reclusive as my father.

.

But then, one morning, I heard their voices:

"_Pass, the ball, pass it over here!"_

"_Get it, get it, get it!"_

"_Over here, I'm open!"_

"…_Yeaaah! Woo! In your face, Cupid!"_

"_Best two out of three?"_

"_Yeah! Let's-a go!"_

I was just dozing off in bed when I heard them. Alarmed, my eyes opened widely. I sat up and turned to the window beside my bed; golden rays from the sun were pouring in. Hmph, another beautiful day, and here I was condemned to miss it. But those voices… Something about them called out to me, and the more I heard it the less I could ignore it. I gulped and opened the window, letting the warm air in.

As I looked down, I could see the once vacant street now crowded with others like me- children, tall and short, fat and thin, furry and… well, not furry. They were all chasing after a small dark ball, dribbling it and passing it to each other as though there was no definite team. Their goal was an old and worn basketball hoop, yet it wasn't a conventional game of basketball they seemed to be playing. Players were tagged in and out, some took sides while others went solo, and no one- absolutely no one- was even keeping score. …But oh, such joy they had; such wide smiles and wild bantering, followed by mindless bouts of laughter. I was suddenly overwhelmed with jealousy.

But then, after a few minutes of watching them, something clicked in my head: "I _know_ these guys."

We used to see each other on the streets just passing by and minding our own business. Sometimes we even exchanged waves and small hellos, while other times were made faces at each other like old rivals looking for a fight (though I don't recall it ever reaching that point). I couldn't remember the last time I saw these kids, but I was certain that they had all but forgotten about me… when suddenly, the winged one flew up to my window.

Unsure of his intentions, I hid myself behind the wall in fear.

"Hey," he smiled pleasantly. "I remember you… Wanna join us?"

I peeked up at him from the side of the window pane. "…M-me?" I squeaked.

"Yeah, you! You can be on my team." On fluttering angel wings, he turned his body and glanced down on the street kids. "Hey, guys! Look who's here!"

Silence fell on the street as all eyes looked up at me. I shuddered nervously.

"Hey, hey!" cheered the blue spiky-haired one with a vibrant wave. "Long time, no see!" Funny, that guy said those words more often than he should have, only this time he really meant it.

I waved down at them, but still reserved my enthusiasm.

"Well?" asked the angel. "Are you coming?"

"Uh…" was all I could get out.

"Buddy, come on! The clock is ticking!" called out the kid with the fox face.

"I'll be right down!" was the winged boy's response. He then looked back at me and said in a gentle voice, "Whenever you're ready, bud."

I realized that this was an invitation, and that I couldn't pass it up. I gave him a nod, and with a new sense of excitement I ran down stairs to my father. He was right where I last saw him, passed out on the couch in the living room and snoring like a bear.

"…Dad? ….Daddy?" I whispered. As I stood there next to him, I was beginning to fear the worst. If I woke him now and asked the same old question, he surely would have gotten angry with me. But this was my chance to get back into the world; I had to face my fear.

As I poked him gently with one finger, he snorted awake. "What?" he groaned, looking at me with tired eyes. "What do you want?"

"I… I, uh…. S-saw some of my old friends playing outside."

"And?"

"And…. And, well, I… I thought I could ask you if…"

Those eyes were narrowing at me now; I could see the anger rising. I took a big gulp; my hands began to tremble. He let out a long, aggravated sigh, which made me cave in.

"…Nevermind. I'm sorry I woke you."

That walk back upstairs was the hardest one of all, as though I was literally dragging part of my being behind me. As I returned to my room, I shut the window and pulled down the drapes. I couldn't face those kids, not now. Possibly not ever. I cried myself to sleep that night.

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I'm not sure what the time was when I awoke that next morning, but what I do know for sure that I woke to a loud rapping at the front door. Curiously, I cracked my bedroom window open to hear my father open the front door to whomever it was behind it. I heard small voices, my of them at once. They were muffled, as there was a long gap between my room and the front door. Even my father's voice was muffled. His voice, by the way, was so flat and tired that I couldn't tell if he were happy or sad. It made me wonder if he would finally lose his temper and scare off the visitors. But before I closed my bedroom door in defeat, I heard those words: "Son, get down here."

Oh great, I must have done something wrong now. Reluctantly I dragged myself down to the living room. By now he had already sent the visitors away, as the door was shut and no one else was present in the room. I took a deep breath and looked up at his disapproving face.

"What did I do?" I asked gloomily.

"Get your things," he said. "Your friends want to play with you."

You can only imagine the surprise that shot through me. "My f-… friends?"

"Yes. Apparently, you have those."

I still couldn't believe it; I remained motionless and jaw-dropped, even when he raised his voice slightly to say, "Well, what're you waiting for? Go out there already. Your friends are waiting."

I blinked once, twice, then regained myself. "Oh! Right! I gotta go get my things!"

I raced up the stairs faster than I had in what felt like ages. I tore into my room, threw open my dresser drawer and scanned it for my old play clothes. I was so focused in that moment that it didn't even register that a miracle had just occurred.

The kids were standing around in the street, the short one in jean overalls twirling the coveted dark ball in his fingers. Some of them almost seemed like they were about to doze off, when my front door shot open. Alert, they all raised their eyes (and the furry ones, their ears as well) in my general direction. There I stood, the wayward soul, dressed in my old blue play clothes and even sporting my old football helmet for extra protection- as if I really needed it. But as their eyes met with mine, my heart skipped a beat. I felt renewed.

"So," smiled the kid in the overalls. "Are you ready to play?"

He passed me the ball, and I caught it effortlessly in my right hand with such accuracy it was as if I had never left the game. My blue eyes lit up in excitement.

"I'm ready."

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**END**


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